


A Good Friend Knows All Your Best Stories. A Best Friend Has Lived Them With You.

by Super_Scene_It



Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:35:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Super_Scene_It/pseuds/Super_Scene_It
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Uncle Ben died was the worst day of Peter's life. And then Gwen died and he thought his entire world was going to fall apart. He thought nothing could top that, but he was wrong. So so so wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Friend Knows All Your Best Stories. A Best Friend Has Lived Them With You.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been racking around my brain for months and I just never had time to actually write it.  
> But school's out and I decided to finally just sit down and let everything pour out of my brain and well...this is the result.

The dark, cloudy sky threatens precipitation. And he knows he should go home, but the tears won't stop no matter how hard he tries to fight them. His entire body shakes and he feels like the mask is suffocating him. His knees, digging into the soil, aches as his trembling hand unmindfully rises to rest on the base of the large monument. He can't bring himself to open his eyes because right now it just feels real. All too real.

Trembling fingers trace along the engraved words reading, “Jonathan Spencer Lowell Storm, The Human Torch, Beloved Member of the Fantastic Four.”

 

\--

 

“Hey, you gonna eat that or what?”

Peter stares at the other man across the table with such menacing eyes. He's been staring at him in silence for almost two minutes and it amazes him just how self absorbed the other man is to not even notice. He's so angry he can feel his own blood boiling and then it just falls out of his mouth. “Why did you have to do that?!!”

The entire diner fell silent and Peter just wanted to run out of there and get hit by a bus or something. He didn't mean to shout so loud, but, seriously how can he just sit there and act like everything's okay?

Johnny Storm's eyes shift from left to right. “You talkin' to...me?”

If there weren't 20 pairs of eyes staring at him right now, Peter'd probably smack his own head against the table. Repeatedly. Because Johnny Storm can be a real idiot some times. Instead he just settled for an elaborate eye roll and a really big huff to demonstrate his frustration. He waits until everyone goes back to minding their own business before he responds. “No, I'm talking to the idiot behind you.”

Sarcasm just flew right over his head as Johnny's brows raise in confusion and he looks to the older man who's seated behind him, pointing a thumb. “Him? What'd he do?”

That was it. That was the absolute last straw. He was convinced without a doubt, that Johnny Storm was a fucking idiot! It takes every ounce of every fiber in his being for him to not flip the table over and tell the apparent blond bimbo just how stupid and narcissistic he really is. But he'd rather save himself the embarrassment and just storms out of the diner without another word.

He's speed walking so fast, he's practically running down the block. If he had a dime, no scratch that, if he had a _penny_ for every time Johnny Storm pissed him off, he'd be the next Tony Stark.

“Hey! Wait up, will ya?!” Johnny's voice is the last thing he wants to hear at this moment and its quite possibly the most irritating thing he has ever heard. A quick _thwip_ to the mouth would shut him up for a good twenty minutes and right now it sounds like such a good idea that it would totally be worth giving up his identity for.

When Johnny finally catches up to him, he has to physically restrain himself from punching him smack dab in the nose. That stupid look on his face. That stupid look of confusion that had no right to even be there. And then, oh god, there was that annoying voice again. “Okay, look, I get it. You're mad at me.”

Peter doesn't even look at him anymore. He literally can't because he just might tackle him with some signature Spidey moves that'll really give himself away.

Johnny's irking voice rattles him some more. “Okay, you're _really_ mad at me.”

They've been speed walking side by side for almost a block and a half now and Johnny's almost out of breath. “Dude, stop now!”

Johnny grabs Peter's arm and spins him towards him so they're face to face. “What's wrong? What did I do? Just tell me already 'cause I'm sick and literally tired of runnin' this marathon with you!”

Johnny sounded so sad and tired and confused that he almost didn't want to punch him in the face anymore. Almost.

“Are you seriously telling me that you don't know what you did? That you don't know why I've been literally using all the energy in my body to STOP MYSELF FROM PUTTING YOU INTO A COMA??? YOU. DON'T. KNOW??????” Okay, he really wants to punch Johnny in the face again.

Johnny's eyes went really wide and the blue of his iris looked so pale. Like the rest of him. He looked really scared. And then he let out a nervous little chuckle that was probably meant to disguise his fear. Or maybe he wasn't scared at all because he just bursted into an uncontrollable laughing fit. His loud cackle attracted the attention of every passerby and it could probably be heard from a block away.

Why must everything be a joke to him? Peter rolled his eyes so hard it almost gave him a headache. Johnny doubled over and nearly lost his balance, flailing everywhere like a lost little fish. He leaned on Peter's shoulder for support, trying to say something that Peter couldn't possibly make out between his laughter. It took several minutes before Johnny could finally maintain his composure.

Wiping tears from his eyes he says, “Oh, man. You really had me goin' there for a sec.” Then he clears his throat, “So, uh, why are you mad at me again?”

The amount of ignorance this one man could have was truly astonishing. Seriously, though, how can he be so oblivious to, well, everything? Did he leave his brain somewhere during his last trip to the Negative Zone or the Multiverse?

Johnny's eyes were practically begging for an answer, so Peter finally gave in.

“You gave Carly Cooper your number. She's my ex-girlfriend. Why would you do that?”

Johnny's face twists up, “Carly-Who?”

Peter huffs, “The girl you met earlier in the diner.”

“Oh.” Then Johnny thinks some more and finally connects the dots, “OH!!”

Peter's eyes go wide and he nods because he finally got it.

“Dude, why didn't you just tell me? It's all cool. No loss, she wasn't that hot anyway.”

It was gonna happen eventually, and so Peter Parker punched Johnny Storm in the face.

 

–-

 

Thunder cracks above and the rain falls heavy, drenching every part of New York City. And as the mud beneath him sinks, threatening to swallow him whole, every bone in his body feels so fragile, like any movement could break him completely.

His head's pounding and feels so heavy on his shoulders, as if it's going to cave in on him and fall to the never ending pit of his stomach. Craning his head back to look up at the monument erected just a week ago, pains him more than he'd thought. It looks just like _him_ . And its only then that he realized that it was the closest he'll ever get to seeing his face again. His smile. Oh god, he'd give anything to hear his laughter. He peals his mask off and he can taste the salt of his own tears. Tears of loss. Tears of regret. Tears of sorrow.

 

\--

 

It's the third time this week Doom attacked New York. No wonder that guy doesn't have any friends. The battle is so grand, it called for an Avengers and Fantastic Four team-up. Peter doesn't remember much. All he knows is that one minute he was delivering a sick killer punch to one of the Doom-Bots with some one-sided banter, and the next minute he's on the floor. And he feels so warm. It takes him a moment before realizing he was laying in a pool of his own blood.

Purple orbs floated around his vision. The sky was so bright blue, it would've been a great day to walk around the park. Well, ya know, given Doom didn't decide to throw a huge party in the middle of Manhattan.

He was just about to drift off into his own fantasized illusions when suddenly warm, strong arms wrapped around his body.

“Stay with me, Spidey! The medics are on the way.”

Those words dragged him back to reality. He didn't have to open his eyes to know who it was. He'd recognize that voice anywhere.

“Hey, hey, Pete wake up. Say somethin', buddy.”

A soft shake and Peter finally stirred awake to see Johnny Storm's piercing blue eyes peering into his soul. He looked like a mess with soot all over his face, and his normally perfect hair was sticking up in every direction, blond strings soiled by debris. The exposure of bruised skin as a result of torn cloth put everything back into perspective, re-emerging the disastrous reality of which they were facing. However, among all the prominence, it was the tiniest speck of dirt making a home for itself within the hairs of Johnny's right eyebrow that first caught Peter's eye upon clarity. In his condition, Peter figured he probably shouldn't have noticed all of that. But with Johnny watching over him, leaning in so close as to subject himself to a view that would magnify any other person's imperfections, it was impossible not to.

Peter groans in pain when he tries to get up, only to fall back into the arms of the other hero.

“Take it easy, man,” Johnny tells him, voice not steady enough to hide his worry. The words frayed a little at the end, and inside Peter felt himself break.

It was hard to look him directly in the eye. It was even more difficult not to when those big, sky blue, stunning spheres that would never break contact were the only things keeping him from falling back into a state of unconsciousness. 

“Wow. I'm in the arms of the Human Torch. I feel so manly.” Spidey manages to say, despite not quite feeling himself, given the overall situation, but especially in due to the look upon Johnny's face that instills within Peter an unimaginable amount of fear he never knew he was capable of experiencing.

“You're tellin' me,” Johnny counters, with a smile so small it was hardly there.

Peter attempts to let out a laugh in desperation of earning a true, blinding smile from the other man if only it were to be the last thing he was going to see, but he ends up thwarting his own plans with a wince from sharp pain he failed to bite down in time. In the midst of his anguish he set his sights elsewhere, searching the clear, peaceful skies contrasting his predicament hoping to find something. A sign. A bird. A funny shaped cloud. Something to occupy himself, to steal himself away from the thoughts of this being his final moments. It was too scary a thought to lend himself to completely. More than anything, though, he's afraid to look down. Afraid of what he'll see. So he looks to Johnny, who tries his best to put on a strong face.

“How bad is it?” He felt his throat close in around him mid-sentence and Peter choked out the words in a crumble that was nearly incomprehensible to his own ears. 

Johnny was silent for a moment, and Peter couldn't tell if he was trying to figure out what he had asked or if he was sorting out an appropriate response that wouldn't borderline a joke. Peter held his breath and waited while Johnny prepared himself, re-arranging his expression into one of poorly edited calmness seemingly held together with cheap tape in the way that it would quickly dismantle and burn the carefully structured bridge built as a bulwark across his face, leaving behind nothing but the remnants of his true, raw emotion he couldn't stifle when he spoke.

“Ah, it's just a lil scratch.”

His lips spoke lies but his eyes told the truth. They always did.

Peter saw his own reflection in the thick line of impending loss that threatened to spill over with a single blink of his friend's eyes. Peter felt himself tremble under Johnny's careful watch when his appearance confirmed he looked as weak as he felt. So weak. So, so weak with not an ounce of strength left to spare, all of it leaking out through the same hole of which his blood drained from. And, oh god, there was so much blood everywhere, warming the areas along Peter's lower back, blending the colors of his costume as to strip it of its distinctive hues so that they became one large growing stain of dark red, all the while soaking into the blue stitches of Johnny's costume, altering its shade into a deep purple. The realization struck him at the core and he hated himself for not being as strong as Johnny when he felt a small, disloyal tear escape his eye and seep into the fabric of his mask as he opened his mouth.

“Hey, Johnny?” He already felt the tremble of his body shake the edges of each and every letter that made up Johnny's name before they left his mouth.

Although Johnny refused to wet his cheeks with a blink, his single worded response cried all the tears he held back. “Yeah?”

Tugging at the rim enclosing the mask around his neck, Peter wished to show Johnny his face one last time, to see him, not through the eyes of Spider-Man, but through the true, naked eye of Peter Parker. Eyes that would plead for forgiveness, tell the tales of a better tomorrow, and cry the tears Johnny wouldn't give himself the privilege of doing. Eyes that would say the good-byes he didn't trust his voice to relay. But Johnny's optimistic hand stopped his motion and broke him to pieces he couldn't place back together in time to shield the uncontrollable sobs he couldn't sniffle away.

Johnny held his hand, still too strong to give up his composure, and struggled to keep himself together.

Through his unrelenting grip, Johnny tried to lend his strength to him but the delicate eggshell of Peter's voice cracked, “I'm scared.”

Johnny cradled Peter in his arms like a child, leaned close to him, and then held him so tight it pressured the wound. He hid his face in the crook of Peter's neck and let himself go, dropping the dams holding back the flood that streaked his cheeks in multitudes of straying streams, creating puddles along the slope of Peter's shoulder. Feeling his features tighten against him, Peter couldn't help but to imagine what Johnny looked like during that moment of brokenness. When he shut his eyes, holding them closed long enough so that the image came so clearly to him, the pain that washed over him replaced the ache he suffered from the battle wound he wouldn't allow to claim his life. This pain attacked his heart and divided it into inconsolable sectors, ripping it raw and squeezing it dry.

Peter could hear Johnny's tiny whimpers that would escape his lips without his knowing and oppose all the qualities Johnny had made himself to appear to be, exposing the man Peter had known he always was. He sniffled away his vulnerable state after a long moment, sucked in the air he was depriving himself of since the moment he found Peter down in the middle of the battle, and steadied his breathing against Peter's ear, his sweet words almost a tiny whisper. “Don't worry, Petey. I got you. I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here for you. I won't leave you, so don't you dare leave me.”

 

-–

 

The strike of lightning followed by a loud crack of thunder sent ripples of shivers down Peter's spine. His heart's beating so fast, he can feel it pounding in his throat and he feels like he's going to vomit. He's so cold he's surprised he hasn't reached the point of hypothermia.

He wishes Johnny was here. To keep him warm. To keep him company. To dry his tears. But he's not here. He's gone. And this is the only place he feels close to him.

The burial ceremony was held a week ago. But Peter didn't show. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't ready to accept the fact that Johnny was gone forever. The same person who he's known for years and spent so much time arguing and laughing and fighting side by side with. His infectious smile and laughter is branded in his memory. A memory. That's all he was now, because there was nothing left of him. Nothing but a tattered uniform.

 

–-

 

The first time Peter went to Johnny's room, he was fifteen and Johnny was months away from turning sixteen. It smelled, well, kind of like the lingering scent of a blown out birthday candle. The small room was a mess with random pieces of clothing in every corner of the room. Playstation 2 video games were spilling out from underneath his unmade bed and the plain colored walls were covered in swim-suited Victoria's Secret models.

Now, almost eight years later, Peter's sitting on Johnny's bed elbowing him in the ribs for grabbing the last slice of pizza.

“Hey, you seen me goin' for that!” Peter shouts, reaching for Johnny's arm.

“Hey, ya snooze ya lose, bug face” Johnny snickers, shoving half of the pizza slice into his mouth. “Mmmmmmm sooooo gooooooood.”

Peter makes a face, “You're disgusting, you know that?”

A big cheesy grin flashes his way and Peter groans, “Ugh, if only all your fan girls could see you now.”

Johnny twists up his face, crosses his eyes and sticks his tongue out of his overly large mouth, earning nothing more than a soft slap on the shoulder.

It may be hard to believe, but for a really handsome guy, Johnny Storm sure can make some of the ugliest faces Peter has ever seen.

Johnny gets in Peter's face, closer and closer until Peter's laughing and pushing him away with gentle force. “Stop,” he somehow manages to say between laughter, but Johnny refused to let up.

Then, just as a huge BOOM! could be heard from somewhere within the Baxter Building, the biggest grin spreads across Johnny's face. He leans close to Peter raising three fingers and dropping each as he counts down, “3....2....1...--”

“JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNNYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!”

Loud foot steps rumble the entire building, getting closer, racing down the hall towards Johnny's room shouting, “You better run cuz Imma break ya in two ya flamin' idiot!”

By the time Ben nearly breaks down the door, Johnny's in hysterics and Peter jumps to the ceiling because he's seen how this plays out too many times. And, no, it never ends well.

“Ya think this is funny, huh??!!” Ben bites out, looming over Johnny, who's laughter refuses to cease. “That's it!” Ben lunges forward to grab Johnny, who ignites in flames just in time to swoop behind Ben.

“Ha! Ha! Ya missed me, ya dumb pile of rocks.” Johnny flies out of the room leaving a trail of smoke behind and Ben Grimm chasing after him.

Peter sighs as he flops onto the large bed beneath him, shoving his gloved hand into the half emptied bag of BBQ chips beside him.

It really shouldn't amaze him as much as it does, but Johnny's room still smells the exact same way it did all those years ago. Oh, the burning sweet scent of nostalgia.

Since then so much has changed. Those Victoria's Secret models no longer hang on Johnny's wall, but rather lay in his bed. His room has grown nearly double in size, fitting a large wall rotational flat-screen TV that almost makes Peter feel like he's sitting in a movie theater.

Johnny once showed Peter his new walk-in closet. It was the largest closet Peter has ever seen. Seriously, it was practically the size of his whole apartment. It was filled to capacity with every piece of clothing on a hanger and, get this, it was color coordinated. Who knew Johnny could be so well organized? Peter admits he really doesn't give the guy enough credit.

And, who would've ever believed it, his room is almost spotless, although that's probably only due to Susan's strict household policies. _“You make a mess, you clean it.”_ Yup, Sue said those exact words when Peter accidentally dropped a full jar of mayonnaise in the kitchen one time. And inspected ever nook and cranny after he had cleaned it up. She takes tidiness very seriously.

“Johnny! Ben! That's enough.” Susan's reprimanding voice beckons throughout the hallway and reaches Peter's ears. “The kids are sleeping. You know better.”

Peter knew it would only be a matter of time before Susan would put an end to their foolishness. After all, she pretty much runs this place.

Peter eyes the pictures on Johnny's dresser as Susan's voice reverts to a normal tone, one of which only reaches his ears faintly now.

He recognized the two that were there previously. A picture of the entire Fantastic Four with all the children present. And of course the other was a picture of _himself._ Shirtless. Classical Johnny Storm.

But the third picture was new. He doesn't recall ever seeing it there before. It was a picture of Peter and Johnny during Peter's first trip to outer space with the FF. Peter had initially declined the offer not wanting to intrude, but Johnny urged him to come along, threatening to break in during the middle of some random night to set his bedsheets on fire. Together the five of them explored parts of the universe Peter didn't even know existed. The stars, the planets, the entire galaxy seemed so flawless, distant and just perfect. The experience was magical beyond description. And at the end of it all they huddled together in front of a high-tech camera like one big family. Peter's arm was resting on Johnny's shoulder while Johnny held up his two fingers as bunny ears behind Peter's head. Their equally bright smiles almost identical.

A pillow to Peter's face nearly knocked him off the bed. “Hey, what're you lookin' at?” Johnny asked, flinging himself flat on his back beside him.

Peter only smiled to himself, “Nothing.”

 

\--

 

He's sobbing like a child by the time regret washes over him like a huge tidal wave. He feels himself slowly being torn apart, as if the Hulk was smashing him into a million, tiny, little pieces. The question still rang in his mind, what if he had gotten there on time? Would Johnny still be here?

Suddenly it all feels like his fault because, although he was out of town on a mission with the Avengers, maybe there was something he could've done. Like maybe swing on over to the Baxter Building as quickly as he could instead of taking the Jet back with the Avengers. Maybe he could've reached there a little sooner and right now he'd be over at the Baxter building playing video games and throwing Doritos at Johnny's head because he always wins at Street Fighter and never shuts up about it. All these maybes and only one outcome.

Peter shoves his mask down over his face and lays down on Johnny's grave site, pulling his knees up close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He's never felt so lonely in his entire life; never felt so helpless, hopeless and...and incomplete.

“I'm so so so sorry, Johnny,” he whispers as he closes his eyes, certain this pain would never subside.

 

\--

 

A long night it definitely was. Lets see, Spider-Man's stopped two bank robberies, one car chase, two children from a burning building, stopped an old lady from walking into traffic, and even saved a cat or two from a tree. Yep, all in a day's work.

Now lets see Peter Parker's to-do list. It's almost 10, he hasn't eaten anything since 5 and he has to get some rest because he has two big exams to take by tomorrow morning.

And suddenly life doesn't feel so great anymore. Yep, classical Peter Parker.

Swinging through Manhattan on his way back to his apartment in Queens, there's only one thing on his mind and that is a big juicy hamburger with his name written all over it. His belly growls, demanding food.

“I'm hungry. I know, so shut up” he tells his stomach. And then, almost out of nowhere, a fire burning Spider lights up the sky. That can only mean one thing and Peter rushes over to the usual meet-up place.

He's out of breath when he arrives but somehow manages to spit out a ton of questions in one breath. “What happened? Is the Baxter Building under attack? Did the negative zone blow up? Is there gonna be another Skrull invasion?”

Johnny stares at him blankly. “Uh....no.” He reveals a paper bag from behind his back and Peter's eyes light up like the fourth of July behind his mask.

“Is--is that what I think it is?” Peter asks with a watery mouth.

Johnny grins.

“Is that Billy's Burgers with--”

“'—extra cheese, tomatoes, pickles, mayo, ketchup and no onions?” Johnny nods his head and looks to the bag as if inspecting it. “Yeah, I think it is.”

Peter rushes over with grabby hands only to be denied. “Nuh-uh-uh” Johnny says backing away and wagging his finger. “First you gotta say it.”

Peter sighs and slumps forward. “Seriously?” he asks, only to receive a nod. Peter refuses, but another demanding growl from his empty stomach pushes him to oblige. “Fine,” he pouts with a roll of eyes. “The Human Torch is waaaaaay more awesome than Spider-Man and any other super-hero in the entire universe,” he exclaims in a voice lacking any enthusiasm what so ever.

“And....?” Johnny urges him to continue.

Peter huffs, “AND you have the best hair ever.”

“BINGO” Johnny shouts, chucking the bag over to Peter, who catches it and treats it so delicately as if he were holding a newborn baby.

Moments later, they both sit with their legs hanging off the side of Miss Liberty's crown, while Peter wolfs down his burger listening to Johnny brag about the latest prank he pulled on Ben.

“...and then he sits down and the entire chair just breaks into a million pieces! And the best part was that it was right in front of the Avengers!” Johnny's cackle echoed through the night sky. It was a nice kind of laugh when you really listened to it. And it was almost infectious when you weren't the butt of the joke. Peter laughed along until they both fell silent, just admiring the bright city before them.

It's so quiet and peaceful being away from the rest of the world. It's an odd feeling, but when he's with Johnny, it feels like nothing else matters. Like, the whole world could disappear and he wouldn't even notice. Some times he forgets what it feels like to be happy. But he can always count on Johnny to remind him. He can count on Johnny for a lot of things--

“Punch buggy!” Johnny punches Peter hard in the arm and he nearly chokes on his burger.

“Ow! What the heck are you doing? We're in the middle of the ocean on top of the Statue of Liberty! There aren't any buggies around!” Peter shouts. He tries to rub the pain away all the while restraining himself from kicking Johnny into the ocean below.

Johnny squints over to the Brooklyn Bridge, his arm motioning forward. “C'mon, dude, there are a ton of cars over there, I'm pretty sure one of 'em is a buggy.”

“And I'm pretty sure you're a moron” Peter declares before returning back to his burger.

Johnny overlooks him curiously, “It's been like a year, and you're still eating that thing?”

“I'm trying to enjoy ever last bite thank you very much.” Peter announces, peering at him through the side of his eyes. “Hey.” Peter exclaims when Johnny swipes his Spider-Man mask from his lap.

“Calm down, I'm not gonna eat it” Johnny assures him as he shoves it onto his head and tries to look around. “How can you even see out of this thing?” Peter laughs because he looks utterly ridiculous moving his head left and right like an owl.

“Ya know, it works better when you actually put it on right.” Peter says, leaning over and re-aligning the mask.

“I think you're right” Johnny tells him, this time getting a good look around. “It kinda smells” he adds a moment later.

“Okay, that's enough.” Peter snatches it off his head and Johnny laughs, combing his fingers through his hair, “I was just kidding.”

Peter sticks his tongue out at him before taking the final bite of his burger.

“Hey, Pete?”

“...yeah?”

“Can I tell ya somethin'?” There was a hint of _something_ in his voice. Something that Peter couldn't quite pin-point and it made him worry just a bit.

“Uh..yeah, sure.”

Johnny's big blue eyes glare at him with a radiance brighter than the sun and Peter feels like he's going to melt. “You're my best friend.”

Peter's heart grew ten times larger than the Grinch's heart ever could. And then the words just rolled off his tongue so naturally that he knew they were true, “You're my best friend too, Johnny.”

The biggest and brightest smile spreading across Johnny's face lit up the world as he hooked his arm around Peter's neck, pulling him close so their heads rested side by side. “Best friends 'til the end, buddy.”

 

–-

 

A big shove followed by a loud voice is what interrupted Peter's slumber.

“Hey, buddy! Spider-Boy, wake up! This ain't no sleepover. This is private property!”

Oh, right.

Wait, what?

Peter stirs awake, instantly feeling the heat from the sun his mask had absorbed. Dried mud clinged to his suit and the stench of damp soil clogged his airways. Wait a second. This is Johnny's grave. And it's morning. Did he really just cry himself to sleep?

“Hey, this is private grounds owned by the Fantastic Four. You can't just waltz in here whenever you like.”

The husky voice belonged to an old man who was short, with a big, round belly. His old, frail hands gripped tightly onto a rake. His glasses slipped down, nearly resting on the tip of his beaked nose as he let out a disappointed grunt. He did not look happy.

Peter rose to his feet, nearly succumbing to his grogginess and losing balance.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude” Peter managed to say, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I just came to--” a pause, and then, with his head hanging low, “--to visit a friend.”

The old man's face softened. He grabbed the rake and began leveling the soil from which Peter used as his personal mattress the night before. “You know, when I was a young boy I lost my friend in a fire. And at his funeral my father told me...”

The old man paused, lifting the rake and resting it over his shoulder, and then continued, “he said, 'True friends are never apart. Maybe in distance but not in heart.' ”

Peter's jaw locked as the man walked away, leaving his words to hang in the air.


End file.
